Damage Control
by Griddlebone
Summary: Sango feels guilty after hurting Miroku at the village of demon women and resolves to teach him how to defend himself... only sparring with him doesn't turn out quite the way she thought it would. (Reposted.)


Author's Note: Trying this again. Many thanks are owed to Angelhart-79 and Evervescent for their help in editing this fic!

-x-

The cut on Miroku's face had faded to a thin line. There might not even be a scar when it had fully healed. Miroku seemed to think nothing of it and the others were careful not to mention it, but Sango felt a pang of guilt every time she looked at him.

She supposed she should have been happy. In the end, he had asked her to live with him and bear his children. It was as close to a declaration of love and devotion as she was likely to get.

But it was her blade that had caused that injury, and her weapons were responsible for the other injuries the monk was recovering from. Her carelessness had nearly cost this man his life.

She had never thought about what would happen if she were ever to fight Miroku. Now she knew the answer whether she wanted to or not: she was a danger to him.

She trailed along after the others, trying not to sigh too often as they headed back to Kaede's village, but her thoughts were miles away. She had discarded the idea of leaving the group almost immediately – it would be far too painful – but she hated the thought that she might make a mistake like that again. Inuyasha would protect Kagome from her, but Miroku had no such guardian. Worse, he had demonstrated that he was willing to take her on by himself, even if it meant risking injury and death.

She couldn't let that happen again.

There had to be something she could do to protect him.

By the time they reached the village, she had it.

-x-

Miroku shifted his arm carefully, testing. It still ached, but his injuries were healing nicely. He shouldn't need the sling any longer.

It was a relief. He'd hated wearing the thing even though he knew it was necessary. It felt much more natural to have both arms at his side, rather than one pulled to the front. Even better, it seemed to put Sango more at ease.

She perked up immediately when she saw him without the sling. She was sitting outside Kaede's hut in the morning sun, her weapons laid out around her. Each blade was honed to a fine point and glinted in the sunlight. She had clearly been seeing to her arsenal.

Miroku had seen her perform this routine numerous times in their travels: taking stock of her poison pellets and smoke bombs, caring for her blades and her hiraikotsu, cleaning her armor. He watched quietly as she worked and did not interrupt her. In turn, she finished what she was doing before addressing him.

"Good morning, Houshi-sama," she said. The pleasant tone sounded forced. Something was obviously bothering her, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

"Good morning, Sango," he replied. For a moment he considered taking a seat next to her, but much of the available space was occupied by her weaponry. On this particular morning the effect was disconcerting.

He suspected that she'd meant it to be.

What in the world could she be thinking?

"Houshi-sama, we need to talk," Sango said.

His heart dropped. Was she rethinking her acceptance of his proposal? Or was something else bothering her? "Of course, Sango," he agreed cheerfully, doing his best to mask his inner panic.

He expected her to clear a space next to her so he could sit, but she did not. She methodically put each of her weapons in its usual place, then stood up and led the way away from Kaede's hut. Miroku followed silently, wondering what he was getting into.

Once they were out of earshot from Kaede's, Sango seemed suddenly to become shy. She cast her gaze down at the ground and wouldn't look up at him even when he strode faster to catch up to her. "Sango," he began, when it seemed that she would just keep walking all day and never muster the courage to speak.

"I realized something, Houshi-sama," she admitted, "at the village of the demon women."

This was it: she was about to crush his heart.

"Sango-sama, I meant what I said," he assured her.

She shook her head. "That's not it. I… I believe you. I still want to be with you and bear your children when Naraku is dead and your curse is gone," she told him. "But I'm dangerous to you, Houshi-sama."

Ah, so that was it.

"I could have killed you," she went on. "As it was, I injured you badly and I wasn't even fully under the salamander's spell yet."

"Sango." He stopped walking, and so did she. "What happened was not your fault."

She looked at him then, her eyes fierce. "But it could happen again."

He had not promised her that he wouldn't flirt with other women in the future, and now he wondered if perhaps he ought to have done so. It hadn't seemed right at the time. He had hardly been able to believe that he'd proposed in the first place. How could he also promise to completely alter his behavior, starting immediately?

His flirtatious behavior wasn't just habit at this point. It was also one of his usual strategies for rooting out demons, particularly when they affected young and attractive women. It would take time to adjust to new strategies. And there remained the fact that no one would have believed him even if he had pledged to change his ways.

It had seemed better to demonstrate that he would do better than make empty promises. He was no longer certain that he'd made the right choice.

In the face of her possible rejection, he suddenly found he was willing to say anything.

"I want to train you," she said, and everything he'd planned to say went right out of his head.

"What?" he asked.

"I want to train you," she repeated, "so that if this happens again, you can better defend yourself."

The trouble with fighting Sango hadn't been fighting her, it had been his reluctance to injure her, but he didn't tell her that. She seemed fragile enough right now. She didn't need him to tell her there was no need to worry. So instead of telling her any of that, he asked, "What would this training entail?"

She looked away. "Back at the village, when we needed to learn how to fight against someone using different types of weapons, we sparred with someone that was an expert in that type of weapon," she explained.

"So if someone wanted to learn how to fight against an opponent wielding a spear, or a longsword," he began.

"They would fight against the person in the village who was best with that weapon until they learned what to do," Sango agreed. "It was the same with all the weapons used by the villagers, even my Hiraikotsu."

"Did you have to spar with the other villagers often?"

She smiled slightly. "No. There aren't many weapons like Hiraikotsu in existence." The smile turned a little bit sad. "My father used to joke that only the man that could beat me in a fight would be worthy of being my husband."

"Sango, if it eases your heart, I will train with you," Miroku promised.

"Really?" she asked. The look on her face was a mix of sincere happiness and surprise, as if she hadn't expected to convince him so easily.

"Yes," he confirmed, then balked, uncertain of what to say next. Should he admit that she was a force to be reckoned with? Or should he downplay how dangerous she could be? He wasn't accustomed to speaking so frankly to Sango, especially not when they were alone and away from their friends' prying eyes. His instinct was to grab her bottom so she'd hit him and storm off and spare him the necessity of finding the right thing to say.

But he wanted to do better, so he didn't grab her. Not that she noticed. She didn't notice how tongue-tied he felt, either. She seemed to be completely consumed by thoughts of training him. And then he had it. "Sango, you are a formidable opponent. If you are willing to take on so unworthy a student as myself, I would be honored to learn from you."

For the first time since leaving the village of demon women, Sango actually seemed happy. "Meet me by the river at midday, then."

With that she turned and headed back to the village. Her tone had been stern, allowing for no argument. Miroku watched her go, a small smile on his face.

He did as he was told, and arrived at the appointed place right at midday. Sango was waiting for him. She was clad in her battle armor and fully armed, Hiraikotsu slung over her shoulder. It never ceased to amaze him the way she could haul that thing around with one arm and never seem to grow tired.

"Houshi-sama," she greeted.

Uncertain of how he ought to address her now that she was playing the role of teacher, he simply used her name. "Sango-sama."

She frowned ever so slightly. He wondered if perhaps he should have called her sensei.

"Ordinarily, I would begin by explaining what my weapon is and how it is used," she told him. "But you already know about Hiraikotsu."

He nodded. They had been fighting together for long enough that he had a pretty good idea of what she could do with that boomerang, even if he had only been forced to fight against her once. She spent a few minutes going over the basics of fighting with Hiraikotsu anyway, as if to make sure he knew exactly what he was in for. When she was done, she slung the weapon behind her again and asked, "Are you ready?"

He nodded again. He still wasn't sold on the idea of sparring with her, but supposed they had better get it over with. It might even be fun.

Without any further warning, Sango attacked. It was fairly clear that she was going easy on him, trying to assess just how well he could fight against her. Miroku defended himself capably from her attacks, but found nothing about the exercise to be pleasant. He hated fighting against humans. When possible, he always tried to talk his way out of a fight, or just plain run away, before being forced into a fight. It felt unnatural to fight Sango like this, and he had to remind himself that it had happened once for real. And Sango was worried that it would happen again.

He was doing this for Sango, he reminded himself as he fended off yet another crushing blow from the Hiraikotsu. It was made from youkai bones, which made it deceptively lightweight for its large size but still incredibly powerful. When properly thrown, Hiraikotsu could slice a man or demon in two, but at this range it was of more use as an oversized club than a projectile.

Sango swung again, aiming for his head. He ducked, stepping backward. As long as she had the Hiraikotsu, he realized, she had the advantage. She had greater range, a larger reach, and a stronger weapon. He had to get it away from her somehow… perhaps he could trip her up again as he had done before.

While his thoughts raced, she brought the weapon down in a powerful overhead smash. Rather than reeling backward, Miroku stepped to the side. He grinned as nearly a foot of the weapon sank into the soft ground. This close to the river, the ground was mostly mud and sand. He could use that to his advantage, he thought. He didn't really need to get the Hiraikotsu away from her so much as just prevent her from using it.

With the end of the Hiraikotsu embedded in the ground, he thought Sango would abandon the weapon or else have to waste time pulling it free. He was wrong.

She threw her weight around the weapon, slamming into him from the side. He stumbled and went down in the mud, air rushing from his lungs as Sango landed painfully on top of him. He lay where he had fallen, wheezing. Dazed as he was, his hand still itched to sneak a caress, but Sango was expecting that. She moved over him, using strong arms and powerful thighs to pin him to the ground. He struggled weakly for a moment before giving up. He might have had a chance if she hadn't knocked the wind out of him, but as it was…

"Thought I was doing well," he muttered.

Looking up, he expected to see a triumphant look on Sango's face, but her expression was serious instead. He realized too late what that look meant: by defeating him with relative ease, Sango had just confirmed her worst fears.

She stood up without bothering to wipe the mud off her knees and offered a hand to help him up. Miroku accepted without hesitation. He was silent as he followed Sango back to the village, as ominously silent as Sango herself, but he knew that next time he would have to do better or risk losing Sango to her own fear.

-x-

Sango's plan had seemed brilliant at first. As it turned out, however, there was a fatal flaw. And that flaw wasn't Miroku's inability to take things seriously or his wandering hands. It was Sango herself.

She had intended for their sparring sessions to teach Miroku how to successfully defeat a taijiya warrior, and that part of the plan was working splendidly. Miroku was a quick study and it was a lot of fun to work with him once she realized how much better he got after even a single practice session. His progress so far had been extremely reassuring even though they couldn't find time to spar every single day. But she was finding it increasingly difficult to fully focus on their sparring. Instead, it was other things that captured her attention.

Like the way her heart raced, fluttering uncomfortably in her chest at the mere thought of being so close to him. And the way that feeling only grew more intense when they began to fight. The rush of adrenaline as they clashed and the mounting frustration as he evaded her attacks and refused to strike back at her. The warm solidity of his body as she inevitably slipped past his guard, knocked him off balance, and pinned him to the ground.

Up until today, she had only used Hiraikotsu against him, thus the necessity of pinning him to the ground or up against a wall or tree in order to proclaim victory. Today, however… She planned to use her sword.

She hadn't told him that. She wasn't even sure of her decision yet, but it seemed the right time to progress to the next level.

She was fairly certain that he'd been letting her win for the past couple of rounds, so she wanted to throw something new into the mix to see how he would react. Letting her win defeated the entire purpose of sparring together, unless Miroku's purpose was different from hers. She frowned slightly. He was probably losing on purpose just so she would pin him down. Knowing him, he was waiting for an opportunity to feel her up.

He didn't give her much time to consider the possibility. They had agreed to spar deep in the forest today, and he appeared on the path only a moment after she realized he probably had an ulterior motive for sparring with her. She watched him carefully as he approached, but could not read any ill intent in his expression.

Maybe it was all in her head… but she knew him better than that. Sighing a little in disappointment, Sango strode forward to meet him in the center of the clearing.

They sparred in a different location each time; it was something she had learned back home in the village of demon slayers. Train too often in familiar terrain, and you would start to rely on that familiarity. This way her sessions with Miroku kept her on her toes just as much as he did.

"Houshi-sama," she greeted.

"Taijiya-sensei," he returned.

It irked her a little when he used the title like that, and he knew it. He liked to rile her up as much as possible before they started, no matter how much it frustrated her.

She refused to let it bother her, but that only made him try harder. It wasn't helping her focus. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Always," he responded with a teasing grin.

"Good."

She hefted her Hiraikotsu. He braced for her attack, but she leaped backward and away from him instead of attacking immediately. What would he do if he had to catch and subdue her, instead of the other way around? She had the advantage of range when she used the Hiraikotsu. Would he be reckless enough to take the bait? She hoped this tactic would make her eventual use of the sword more of a surprise.

Miroku hung back, waiting for her to attack. The terrain in this clearing was rough, with tall grass and tangles of roots underneath; there was no way he could have reached her before she could throw the Hiraikotsu.

She bided her time for as long as she could, giving him time to grow impatient with the stand-off to see if she could goad him into a reckless attack. Miroku was good at masking his emotions. It was difficult to tell when his attention might be ready to lapse or if his patience was on the verge of running out. Finally, without warning, she hurled the Hiraikotsu at him.

Even before the weapon had reached him, she turned and fled into the forest.

She heard the telltale thunk as Miroku deflected the Hiraikotsu with his staff, but didn't look back.

"Sango!" Miroku called out behind her. She didn't stop.

A part of her was deeply gratified to hear him running after her. Another part of her wasn't quite sure what to do next. She'd scouted this area before, but not thoroughly. She would have to make this up as she went.

She raced between the trees, creating a twisting and unpredictable path, staying away from any of the main trails. Her pulse pounded in her ears, exhilaration pushing her onward with each step she took. She pushed herself harder and harder, leaping over obstacles when she had to, knowing that she had to put enough distance between them to strike without giving herself away.

He was faster than she'd counted on. In fact, he was gaining on her. Or was she letting him catch up?

She slowed slightly, as if in exhaustion. Miroku pressed his perceived advantage. He was awfully loud behind her, breathing hard and staff ringing as he charged through the forest.

Just when he was about to catch her, she whirled. Her sword flashed from its sheath. Miroku cried out and only instinct saved him from being skewered by the blade. Sango gave a wordless shout and slashed. The monk managed to bring his staff around to block, but grunted under the force of the blow. Sango immediately altered the angle of her blade and thrust as hard as she dared. Miroku fumbled out of the way.

Sango leaped backward again, preparing to flee into the trees once more, but Miroku wasn't about to let her get away so easily. He had the advantage of reach on her and he used it now, sweeping the staff toward her legs. She jumped up, clearing the staff but landing off-balance. In the instant it took her to regain her footing, he'd closed the distance between them.

She slashed again, forcing him back, giving herself some room to breathe. He could still reach her with the staff if he wanted to, but she was used to dealing with opponents that were bigger and heavier than she was. She could still beat him.

The next two times she slashed for him, he deflected the blows easily with his staff even though she attacked from two wildly different angles. It was a technique they'd worked on several times in the past, and now it seemed he'd mastered it. Sango felt a flash of frustration at being redirected so easily, and was so startled by the realization that she'd become more concerned with beating the monk than teaching him that she nearly stumbled.

She shook off the distracting thoughts and followed through with a backhanded slash of her sword as she let the momentum from his next parry carry her to the side. Miroku didn't quite bring his staff up in time and found himself staring down the blade of her sword.

Smiling, he let the staff drop and put his hands up in surrender.

Sango managed to smile back, but it was a feeble and forced thing. She sheathed her sword and accepted Miroku's admission of defeat in silence.

"That was clever," he said pleasantly. "I wasn't expecting an attack from the side. I almost thought I'd managed to trip you up."

He meant it as praise, so she tried to take it as such. But she was troubled by the fact that she herself no longer seemed to be taking their sparring as seriously as she had in the beginning. Victory had become more important than protecting Miroku. With that mindset, she might end up hurting him in a practice session, with no need for an actual battle.

But a glance at the monk showed her that he still had that grin on his face, like he'd enjoyed every moment of their fight. He hadn't seemed to enjoy their sparring nearly as much in the beginning, when she spent more time actually training him. And she hadn't actually managed to injure him yet, even in the heat of the moment.

Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that he wasn't just a monk, but also a capable fighter.

Maybe this change in their sparring wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, maybe it was only natural to progress the more they practiced together. Maybe it really was okay for her to enjoy the challenge of fighting him and not worry so much about hurting him.

She liked the sound of that and hoped she wasn't just fooling herself.

-x-

Miroku had been skeptical of Sango's plan at first, but as the days passed he was growing to truly enjoy his sparring sessions with her. He had thought that fighting with a woman, particularly _this_ woman, would be uncomfortable, but in reality Sango seemed more comfortable with him than she ever had before. And that was more than enough reason to keep sparring with her.

She always wore her armor and brought her full complement of weapons to their sparring sessions. At first she had used only the Hiraikotsu, working with him to improve his strength and stamina. But lately she had begun to use some of her other weapons as well. He could cope with the sword. Swords and knives were common enough that he'd long ago learned to use the extra reach afforded by his staff to his advantage.

Last time, she'd stymied him by using a length of chain as a weapon. In truth, he'd forgotten about the chain up until she used it against him.

It had been his most undignified defeat: on the ground at her feet, hopelessly tangled in the chain. It had been worth it. Sango had patiently helped untangle him, after all. And now he knew, as she had pointed out, that this was a weak point to watch for.

He wondered what she would try this time. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't be the chain again, although waiting patiently while she extricated him from the tangle had been gratifying in its own way.

"What's that look for, Houshi-sama?" Sango asked, appearing out of the forest. She usually waited for him to find her, but today she had sought him out. Had he really taken so long that she had come looking for him, or did she have something else in mind?

"Just remembering your last lesson," he told her.

She frowned slightly. She found it troublesome that he enjoyed his defeats as much as his few small victories, he knew. In truth what he enjoyed was the time spent alone with her, even if it meant taking a beating that would leave him bruised and sore for the next few days.

At least she had finally stopped focusing so much on the danger she might present him, and instead now focused on winning each fight. Sometimes she even seemed to be having fun, especially when he did something she hadn't expected. He'd never asked whether their infrequent sparring sessions were doing anything to assuage her fears, but he hoped they were.

"Are we going to fight today or not?" he asked teasingly. Their friends had gone through the well earlier, so they had all afternoon to themselves. There was no rush, but he enjoyed pushing her when he could get away with it.

"Don't think you'll get out of this so easily," she responded. Her words were stern, but her tone was playful. It was a wonder, Miroku thought, that neither of them had realized how much fun this could be until now.

As always, she attacked with Hiraikotsu first. She'd explained to him during their very first sparring session that she nearly always used this weapon first. She occasionally made use of smoke bombs or poison pellets first, but those would be ineffective against him and he should expect the Hiraikotsu if she were ever to fight against him. It had been frustrating at first to try and remember not only all the information she gave him about all of her weapons, but all of the different strategies she employed with those weapons. Now it was becoming second nature.

He still lost most of their fights, but he could occasionally surprise her now. Most of his victories were verbal, when he could spare a few breaths to tease her, but that was slowly beginning to change. One day soon he might even score a definitive victory.

Until then, he focused on dodging Sango's attacks. It was far easier to evade the Hiraikotsu than try to block it with his staff, although when Sango attacked in earnest even dodging was no easy feat. She was unbelievably fast with that weapon, considering its size.

Thanks to Sango's efforts, he'd learned a few tricks for using the weapon's size and weight against her. Fighting in the forest actually worked to his advantage in this. The trees were incredibly useful for limiting her range of motion and made each throw more of a gamble. No matter how well-aimed her strike was, there was always a chance the weapon would get tangled in the underbrush or wedged into a tree.

Miroku kept moving backward, evading her strikes as he went, heading off the path and into a particularly thick section of the forest. It wasn't easy going for him, either, but he also wasn't trying to smash someone with a gigantic bone boomerang.

Finally, frustrated at her impeded movement, Sango tossed the Hiraikotsu away. Now the real challenge would begin. Miroku turned and ran into the forest as fast as his feet would carry him, knowing that Sango would be right behind him.

He slowed when he reached a clearing and turned to face her. She approached cautiously, sword in hand. She clearly wasn't sure what he was up to. He had no weapon other than his staff, and certainly nothing with which he could attack her at range. But she didn't have her Hiraikotsu, either. If she wanted to win this fight, she would have to get close, and the distance meant he'd have more time to react to her attack when it did finally come.

For a woman as emotionally expressive as Sango, she hid her emotions well in battle. Miroku cursed under his breath as Sango hurled her chain at him. He hadn't even seen her retrieve it from its hiding place.

This time he was slightly more ready for it than he had been last time. He planted his feet, letting the chain tangle around his staff and forearm. When he felt he had enough leverage, an instant before Sango made her move, he _pulled_.

Sango stumbled forward two steps, eyes wide with surprise. Then she cursed. He was heavier than her and it would waste a lot of strength and energy trying to pull him down by brute force. Without the element of surprise, the chain was far less useful to her, so she tossed it aside and charged toward him.

Unfortunately for Miroku, his right arm was still mired in the damn thing. Freeing himself gave her a chance to close the distance between them. Frantically bringing his staff around to counter her next attack, Miroku was certain he'd soon have that sword pointed at his face or his neck.

Somehow he managed to knock the blade out of the way. Sango's expression grew dark and he abruptly remembered what had worked back at the village of demon women. Rather than riposting with his staff, he grabbed her sword arm with his left hand. It didn't work this time. Sango didn't give him a chance to strike but squirmed and twisted, pulling free.

He allowed his momentum to carry him forward, much as Sango was doing, and thumped his staff solidly against her rump for good measure. The outraged sound she made was music to his ears, but he couldn't afford to let it distract him. She was furious now, determined to beat him.

He had to think quickly.

Deftly, he caught the end of his staff under the hilt of her sword and swung, using the leverage afforded by the staff to pry the blade out of her hand as she whirled to attack him. The sword spun out of her hand and hit the ground several feet away. She would have to let him go to retrieve it, and they both knew she wouldn't do that.

For a stunned moment he could hardly believe that he'd actually managed to disarm her with that trick. She smirked and brought her elbow down hard onto his forearm. She had his staff in her hand almost before he fully realized what had happened. That she had it in her left hand, rather than her dominant hand, was little comfort.

He wasn't sure how well she could use a staff in battle, and he didn't want to find out. She swung at him with the staff, rings chiming merrily as if it were any ordinary day and not the day Sango was about to defeat him with his own weapon. Miroku reeled backward. Sango followed ruthlessly, swinging at him again. This time he ducked and scrambled backward – right into a tree. He grunted, breath gusting painfully from his lungs.

Sango watched impassively, ready to strike him down with his own weapon. He knew he had to stop her or she would leave him with some very painful bruises.

That was when she finally made a mistake: she stepped close enough that he could reach her.

Desperate, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled, squeezing with all his might. Sango grunted and let the staff go as she fell against him. For an instant, he thought he'd won.

And then he had a blade at his throat.

He'd forgotten about the blade hidden beneath her gauntlet. And now she was glaring up at him and that blade was pressed against his throat.

She was breathing hard from exertion. Her eyes flashed fire.

She had never looked so beautiful before.

She could have killed him in an instant and he would have done nothing to stop her. He couldn't look away.

He didn't realize that he'd let go of her wrist until her fingers gripped his hair. He couldn't think straight. In fact, he couldn't seem to do anything but stare into her eyes. He wanted desperately to kiss her but knew even in his addled state that the consequences for such behavior would be dire.

Dimly, he realized that the blade wasn't at his throat anymore.

That wasn't as important as the fact that Sango was leaning forward, her body pressed against his as she pulled his head down.

He breathed her name.

With no hesitation at all, she pressed her lips to his.

-x-

Miroku's hands were on her bottom. For once, Sango didn't mind, although the way he used the leverage to pull her tight against him was entirely too distracting.

She felt the monk smirk against her mouth an instant too late. Gripping her butt firmly, he jerked her upward against him. Sango gasped in shock, losing her balance as he lifted her off the ground. She looped her arms around his neck and clung, laughing, as he abruptly reversed their positions.

She hooked her legs around his hips, enjoying the sound he made as he pulled her even tighter against him. How had she waited so long to kiss him?

Caught between Miroku at her front and the unyielding solidity of the tree at her back, with his lips crushed to hers and his breath hot on her face, it occurred to Sango that she might not win this one. And that maybe she didn't care.


End file.
